


Bloody Gorgeous Boys on Sledging Hills

by Panromantic_Fanatic



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Asexual Character, Bisexual John Watson, Bisexual jawn, Established Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Jawn, John "Three Continents" Watson, John Loves Sherlock, John Watson Loves Sherlock Holmes, John Watson is Not Gay, Johnlock - Freeform, Johnlock alternate universe, LGBTQ Character, No Smut, Nonbinary Sherlock, Other, POV Sherlock Holmes, Panromantic Sherlock, Romantic Soulmates, Sherlock Being Sherlock, Sherlock Holmes is Bad at Feelings, Sherlock in Love, Sledding, Soulmate Color AU, Soulmate universe - Freeform, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, They/them sherlock, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Trans Sherlock, Virgin Sherlock, ace Sherlock, johnlockau, probably no smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-22
Updated: 2018-02-27
Packaged: 2019-03-22 12:53:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13764603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Panromantic_Fanatic/pseuds/Panromantic_Fanatic
Summary: John Watson was only 20 years old when he met his soulmate on a sledging hill. What ensues is some angsty shit that includes a pretty non-binary person named Sherlock.And Mycroft's umbrella.





	1. Watercolours

**Author's Note:**

> Btw, I wrote a non-gay version for my Flash Narrative assignment for Spring Term 2018. So if my prof finds this, didn't plagiarize!!!!  
> I'm entering this into the lilfriendlyfanfic contest  
> Fingers crossed

That sledging hill changed my life forever. I was a 20-year-old, London bred uni student who hadn’t found his soulmate yet. As I was without my soulmate I couldn’t see in colour yet, which made being a pre-med student difficult. The only way to find my soulmate was the almost tattoo-like design on my left arm, but it hadn’t so much as shifted grey-tones since I was born. The design is called a “Fixation”, most people have one, and a Fixation always has a match out there somewhere. When (or if) you find your Fixation’s match, the world blooms into colour.  
It was -1 out, and I was trudging up a hill of knee deep snow after my friend Mike. The air smelled of smoke from local bonfires, and the air was dry, making it painful to inhale. The hill was bordered by skinny trees, devoid of leaves. Mike was running cheerfully up the slope, while I was dragging a rented, stiff plastic sledge by its long rope handle. I kept having to jump out of the way when out of control sledges went in my direction.  
“Sorry!” called a little boy who nearly bowled me over.  
When I finally reached the top, Mike turned to me with a huge grin, his cheeks red from the cold.  
“John, you go first. We have to be quick, because I need to be back in time for a lab.” He gestured at the sledge with gloved hands.  
“Do I have to go at all, Mike?” I begged.  
“You’ve already paid, and there’s no other way down, Watson.”  
“Come on.”  
He grabbed my shoulders and sat my short frame down in the sledge, I made a noise of protest, (which he ignored) before he quickly pushed the sledge down the slope. The sledge quickly picked up speed and was soon hurtling down the seemingly mountainous hill. The sound of the sledge coasting across the crusty snow was deafening. My buzzed hair did nothing to protect my face from the frigid wind as my beanie fell off my head, landing in the snow behind me and quickly disappearing out of sight. I shifted my knees closer to the centre of the sledge. I sighed with relief; I was quickly approaching the bottom, with no disaster in sight. Just as I had finally started to relax and enjoy myself, the bottom edge of the sledge caught on a chunk of ice and the sledge veered towards the trees.  
“Help!”, I frantically tried to stop, my feet and hands scrabbling for purchase but having no effect. I braced myself, turning my head in anticipation of the inevitable crash. Right before my sledge entered the trees, a person on an innertube appeared in my path. A pale face looked at me with shock just before we collided, the tube crashing into my legs. Our collective tangle of limbs and sleds slid to a slow stop. My legs had been caught under the boy’s innertube and their left wrist was twisted in the rough rope handle on my sledge. 

They quickly disentangled themselves and stood up, easily reaching 6 feet tall; while I remained at their feet in a miserable frozen lump. As they shook the snow from their knee-length coat and scarf, I could feel the snow melting through the thin fabric of my jeans. Short and dark curly hair peeked out under the band of their cashmere hat, framing their thin, pale face. As their transparent eyes met mine, glittering with obvious intelligence, I started, realising that I had gotten distracted staring at their face. 

They raised their left eyebrow with a smirk and extended their manicured, immaculately thin hand towards me. I grabbed it, marvelling at the lack of callus and at how the bones in their pale fingers stood out sharply. They lifted my compact body up from the frigid ground with surprising strength.

“Sherlock Holmes,” they nodded at me, with a crisp tone, “I apologize for colliding into your sledge. My brother, Mycroft, determined it would be humorous to push me down a hill in an innertube with little warning,”  
Sherlock sniffed with indignation.  
“Oh, uh, it’s fine. Pleasure bumping into you,” my cheeks burning, I awkwardly adjusted my thick, wool jumper and looked over their shoulder to avoid looking at their eyes.  
“I’ll be off then,” Sherlock turned and started to walk off to the sledge rental building.  
“No, wait!” I grabbed at their shoulder and the way Sherlock looked at me made it clear that they believed I was not worthy of their attention.  
“My name’s John, uh, would you maybe like to get coffee sometime?”  
They started and looked at me with shock.  
“Oh,” they said, their voice dropping down to a whisper, and their eyes widened with amazement.  
“Sorry?”  
“Show me your arm! Your left.” Sherlock looked at me with an eagerness I could only describe as a result hunger for information.  
I pulled the left sleeve of my cable knit jumper up to my elbow, revealing the black and white honeycomb pattern spanning the length of my arm. Wait. Not black and white, but a fluctuation of shades that I couldn’t begin describe had begun to spread over my skin.  
“Sherlock,” I stuttered, “Show me yours.”  
They slowly lifted the arm of their black coat, grinning as they did so. “Now you catch on, cleverer than Mycroft at least.” Sherlock mutters to themself. 

Their Fixation was identical to mine.


	2. Propositions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some stuff happens. Oooooooooohhhhh.  
> Sherlock is a pretty boi and John has a crushie on them

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I recently got a beta for this work! She's wonderful, and my work is so much better.  
> Thank you guys for reading my shit----  
> This was originally going to be a 25 chapter fanfic with a lot of plot and content, but I am currently working towards my degree in biomedical engineering and uni is getting quite difficult. I might update this occasionally, please don't expect more chapters though.  
> I am so sorry!

3 Weeks Later  
I glanced at my cracked phone screen for the third time in five minutes. Nothing. I sigh, setting my phone down on the desk with a thump. It had been three weeks since I had gained my colours and met my soulmate. After an awkward and lukewarm first date with Sherlock, there had been no contact between us.  
I stretched my arms high above my head and tilted my head back, leaning back on my uncomfortable, cheap IKEA chair. I had been studying for exams all day and I was exhausted. My eyes bleary and my legs a little wobbly after having sat in a chair for 6 hours straight, I stood up. The flat was a mess, a result of my flatmates, Mike, and Callum, holding parties most nights in the last couple of weeks. I stood up and started to pile up the dirty laundry strewn all over the floor. I wrinkled my nose with distaste, having found two grimy, hot pink, lace bras and a cheetah print thong with black lace trim under Mike’s bed. Quite frankly, with the beer bottles crowding the dusty windowsills overlooking the rainy street and the cigarette butts strewn over the floor, the flat looked like a cheap brothel. After throwing all the cannabis smoke laden clothes into the laundry hamper with my gloved hands, I washed my hands with disinfectant up to my elbows and proceeded to start to wash the piles of dishes in the sink. As the hot tap ran, filling the plugged sink with soapy water, I made my bed and sprayed the flat with Febreeze.  
A knock sounded at the door, I quickly turned off the tap, and kicked my way through the beer bottles’ that had covered the floor. Grasping the once gold doorknob, I pulled the door open a crack, looking into the hallway.  
“Ye-?” the words died on my lips when I realized that the rain sodden, gangly ghost with a mop of black curls, was Sherlock. “What are you doing here?” I asked as I leaned my shoulder against the doorframe.  
Sherlock flinched “I, uh, wanted to see you…”  
I instantly regretted the tone of my voice and tried to correct myself.  
“No, I meant, how did you know where I live?”  
“Oh! That was easy enough. I could tell by the dirt splashes on the cuffs on your jeans and the way the wind had weathered your jacket.” They raised their head and animatedly started to explain how they had deduced where I lived.  
“Enough.” I said softly to cut Sherlock short. “Is there something you wanted to tell me? There isn’t really a good reason to blow someone off for two weeks.”  
Sherlock straightened up, “There is something. I assume that you’ve gathered that I’m gender non-conforming, considering your use of they/them pronouns. But I needed to make that you are aware of everything, if we are going to embark on a romantic relationship.” Sherlock took a deep breath and scuffed their feet on the hallways carpeted floor, “I was assigned female at birth. I am non-binary but I identify as male. He and they pronouns are acceptable. I will not tell you my birth name, I am Sherlock to you, nothing less, nothing more. Furthermore, I will not be having sexual relations with you. ” Sherlock said frantically. They looked at me with vulnerable eyes and it was obvious they were afraid I was about to reject them.  
I blinked at them like they were oblivious. “None of the changes my feelings towards you, and it’s fine.”  
“I know, it’s fine,” Sherlock snaps.  
“I meant that it’s all fine, I couldn’t give a shit, I’m bi.” I stated while looking straight into their eyes.  
“Being bi doesn’t mean anything in regards to my gender orientation, John” Sherlock hissed.  
“I know that, that’s not what I meant. What I mean is that your biological body has no bearing on my feelings or our relationship.”  
Sherlock stared at me with their piercing blue eyes, trying to decide if I told the truth. They looked into the hall behind them and pushed past me into the flat. Striding into the main living area, they headed towards the plaid couch and swept off all the party debris to make a space for them to sit. I followed them into the living room and stood in front of the couch by the shit telly. Flopping onto the couch, they rested their elbows on their knees and stared at me with almost puppy doglike eyes.  
“Now that that is out of the way, here’s a proposition: would you be willing to live in my flat with me? It’s cheaper rent, I am a quiet tenant, and the flat will be as clean as you’d like.” Sherlock looked plaintive.  
“Oh God. Jesus,” I fiddled with my oatmeal coloured jumper’s left sleeve.  
“I didn’t mean offense.” Sherlock muttered, their cheeks pink. They got off the couch and turned up their coat collar.  
“No. Wait.” Sherlock turned and looked at me, clearly hurt.  
“What?”  
“That’s not what I meant, I was just surprised. And quite honestly flattered.”  
“Oh.”  
“I’ll consider it. Give me a week, okay?”  
They looked less crestfallen. “Okay.”  
I slowly moved closer to them, “I have my own proposition for you.”  
Clasping their hands with mine, I looked into their eyes, my cheeks burning.  
“W-what.?” They stammered, gulping.  
“How do you feel about snogging?” I breathed against their neck.  
Saying nothing, they grabbed the small of my back and pulled me tight against their body.  
“With you? I would definitely love snogging you”


End file.
